


A Grave Man

by talefeathers



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Angst, Blood, Drabble, Grief/Mourning, One Shot, Sad, do what your heart tells you?, having a hard time tagging this to be perfectly honest um, it's just a death scene? really? a sad deathfic between bros? ah?, or i guess you could read it shippy if you wanted to?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:51:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talefeathers/pseuds/talefeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>No, ’tis not so deep as a well nor so wide as a church-door, but ’tis enough, ’twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man (3.1.64-66).</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Grave Man

_“MOVE!”_

The three women crowding the door of the nearest house scurried away as Benvolio barged into it, barely managing to hold Mercutio upright.

“Oh, no, no, no!” cried a fourth woman, the lady of the house. “We’ll have none of your brawls in here! Get out!”

_“Please,_ he’s --!”

“I am neither Capulet nor Montague,” Mercutio cut across, swearing when one of his legs slipped out from under him. “In fact, I despise the lot of them. On a tenuously related note, leaving might be a bit inconvenient, being that I’m dying.”

“All the same --!”

“Very well. Benvolio, when I’ve finally ceased my inane prattle, do make sure and bring my body to my cousin, the prince --”

The color drained from the woman’s matronly face. “The prince?”

“Please, madam, he needs to lie down,” Benvolio insisted. Either Mercutio’s invocation of his relations, the desperation in Benvolio’s face, or both led the woman to huff and relent.

“You’re not,” Benvolio said in as firm a voice as he could manage, depositing his friend as carefully as he could onto a couch.

“What of my knot?” Mercutio cracked back with a grimace that should have been a smile.

_“You’re not dying!”_

Mercutio let his mask falter at the rawness of his friend’s voice; the next smile he tried was gentler. “I am, good Benvolio. ‘Tis a consequence of being thus run through, I’m afraid.”

Benvolio shook his head as tears swam to his eyes, pressing his lips together to stop the bottom one quivering. Mercutio sighed and took Benvolio’s sleeve in a weak, bloodstained grip, pulling him close.

“I know that you will look after Romeo,” he said, more solemn than Benvolio had ever seen him. “Yours is the stoutest heart among us. I only urge you not to forget to look after yourself.”

“You can’t go,” Benvolio sobbed. “Not so long before us!”

“Someone has to go ahead and make sure that Heaven is good enough for you,” Mercutio said, eyelids drooping over a haggard grin. “The angels have seen how particular you are and do not wish to cope with your constant nagging. I do owe you thanks, however; if not for this assignment, I would surely be destined for a much warmer climate.”

Benvolio could make no answer other than to pull his bloody friend into a hug. Mercutio coughed out a chuckle.

“Look after yourself, Benvolio,” he murmured, his grip on the other boy’s sleeve slackening. “Please.” 

With that last entreaty, he was still.

_O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio is dead!_  
 _That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds,_  
 _Which too untimely here did scorn the earth (3.1.78-80)._


End file.
